Slight Faith
by thellairea
Summary: I've always thought that Daxter has a cruel streak inside that fuzzy orange hide! After all, how could it have taken him two full years to rescue Jak? Contains spoilers from Jak II. Completed!
1. Daxter

He's so utterly, completely, disgustingly perfect, and everyone loves him for it. Oh, it pisses me off sometimes. Sometimes? Scratch that- always. Great work, Jak! Everyone's counting on you, Jak! What about ME?! Look what he did to ME!

If it weren't for that blonde lunkhead, I wouldn't be in the state I am now. Two feet tall. Covered in orange fur. Considered an overly large rat by most, a cute little pet by others. A _pet_! Jak's so far from perfect, it ain't even funny. He couldn't even save me, the pathetic tag-along. The annoying one. The loud-mouthed liability.

It's not fair, I tell you! All I wanted to do was keep him friggin' happy. I'd follow Jak anywhere - even that Lurker-infested hellhole known as Misty Island. That familiar, scheming smile played across his features as he glanced over the water towards it, knowing Samos would be thoroughly enraged were we to travel to the one place he'd forbidden us to go...

Of course, looking back on it now, ol' green-gramps probably forbade it specifically so that we WOULD go. In later days I met the Shadow as an Ottsel, after all. Hah! I bet ol' log-noggin got the shock of his life when he arrived in Sandover with the kid to find kid-me completely unfurry!

...Anyway. We went to Misty Island, because Jak wanted to. Was I supposed to let him go by himself to a place like that? Huh?

And look where it got me! He pushed me into Gol and Maia's vat of Dark Eco- I know he didn't mean to, I _know_, but he still did- and I was turned into this. Higher on the food chain than baby chicks and slugs, at least. I guess. Jak ruined any chance I might have had- I mean... 

All I wanted was for him to be happy.

---

"Fine. As long as you're still willing to hurt the Baron, I'm your man." Jak shot a cynical grin across the table to Torn, the light of the lamp casting deep shadows on his face. Jak's smile these days sends a shiver down my spine - and no, I'm not talking about good vibes, here! I'm talking about the creepy, wanting-to-run-away-to-my-happy-place kind. The stuff nightmares are made out of, on the deepest nights when you're all alone in an unfamiliar place, where everything you knew has been lost to the darkness that surrounds you.

Frig! I should be a poet!

Torn said something-or-other in reply while I hopped back onto my friend's shoulder guard. Something dripping with sarcasm, I'll bet. That guy is in serious need of an attitude adjustment.

"So. Where are we being ordered off to now?" I leapt into Jak's hair, leaning out and over his forehead. "No, no, let me guess! We get to go to... THE SEWERS! I'm sure there's some filth-encrusted goodie hidden in its deepest," I wiggled my fingers for effect, "darkest, dankest, most dangerous -"

Jak interrupted me mid-sentence. He frowned as the door to Torn's hideout slid open, but my vantage point turned that frown upside-down. HAH! I have to save that one for later! "You mean you didn't hear a word Torn said?"

"Uhh..." I skulked back to my usual perch to avoid forceful contact with the door frame as we stepped outside. "No."

"And you didn't insult him once?" It was more of a statement than a question, really.

"... I guess not. So?"

"Either you're learning when to shut your mouth, which I seriously doubt -" he had to raise his voice over my howl of protest - "or you've got something on your mind. C'mon, Dax. Spill." Jak looked genuinely concerned, which for some reason set me off.

"Something on my mind? SOMETHING ON MY MIND? Oh, let's see! We've been tossed into a future so dark and dreary even YOU'VE been turned into an angsty, bloodthirsty MONSTER, and YOU'RE ASKING ME WHAT'S WRONG?!"

The concern melted to hurt and the hurt was quickly masked by anger, that anger that was always lurking just behind his eyes when he was acting carefree or happy or otherwise NORMAL.

Jak is not normal.

Not anymore.

"Whatever," he growled, jumping onto a zoomer as an excuse to break eye contact and cease conversation. He paid no heed to its terrified occupant, shoving her roughly out of the driver's seat and onto the ground some twelve feet below.

That's what I'm talking about. What happened to MY Jak?

But, somehow, deep down... Even though I know it's wrong, that I was wrong... I'm satisfied. I'm satisfied and almost happy with the way Jak is now.

He turned me into _this_.

In return, I helped him turn into... _that_. 


	2. Love

_Second chapter! Thanks for the reviews, everyone, I'm glad you like the fic so far. It shall be three chapters at the very least, so this isn't the final installment. Enjoy! And remember, I don't own Jak and Daxter. The wonderful people at Naughty Dog do. I'm sure they'll let me have my bit of fun, especially since I don't profit from this in any monetary way._

And yeah, Daxter's mind jumps around a lot. Blame him, not me!

---

By the time I even realized what was going on, he'd fallen- like a yakkow off a cliff, I might add- for Keira.

That was okay, though. The fearless hero always needs a love interest, right? And although Keira didn't fit the damsel-in-distress stereotype, they were still a match made in heaven. I, of course, _had_ to begin hittin' on her. It was my duty as Jak's best friend, you see! The blonde lunkhead refused to act no matter how much she flirted, and that just made her try all the harder. It was a no-win situation for everyone involved!

Soooo, I introduced the jealousy angle. Throw a handful of pick-up lines Keira's way, a couple of catcalls, voila! Jak starts getting territorial, and the Dax's love potion works its magic!

He was happy, so I was happy. Plus, geez- the way those two were eyeing each other, it was the only way they'd pay me any attention.

If you've gotta sacrifice a bit of yourself to make your friends happy, that's okay though, isn't it? 'Cause, man... It was hard. I'd never had to share Jak with anyone before. I didn't like it. I still don't. No one else knows him the way I do! He ain't perfect, he ain't godly, he's just a regular _guy_. He makes mistakes, he pisses me off, he even trips over his own feet sometimes!

And thus, when he made the most moronic mistake of his _highly overrated_ life by knocking me into that vat of Dark Eco, he robbed me of the one thing I could feel noble about! The ONE THING that I, the sidekick, the liability, the obnoxious, scrawny, buck-toothed twit, had left! The one thing that I CHOSE not to act upon so he'd stay stupid and ignorant and _happy_!

When I was still human... I still had a chance with him.

---

"Sooo... where ARE we going?" I ventured timidly. No matter what Jak may think, I DO know when to tone down or shut up!

"Guess," he smirked.

Relieved that he'd calmed down as quickly as me, I allowed myself some righteous indignation. "The sewers?! NO WAY! I am NOT going there again! We've been all under the freaking city already! We've had personal, up-close tours of EVERY TOILET WITHIN FIVE MILES! What could POSSIBLY be under there that we haven't explored, swiped, or blown up yet?!"

"Eh, the Krimzon Guards cornered some of Torn's men in a pipe down there. They're safe right now, but apparently it's just a matter of time before the guards get annoyed and decide that taking them alive isn't worth the hassle."

"Oh! A rescue mission, then!" I cracked my knuckles. "Any rebels of the, ah, female persuasion with 'em?"

Jak laughed at my suave expression. Hah! He laughed! First time in a week! Oh yeah, the Dax still has it. "Well, you'll have to come with me to find out, won't you?"

I sighed dramatically. "The things I do in the pursuit of loooove." 


	3. Strategy

"Are we- mpgh!"

Jak clamped my mouth shut, motioning to the walls ahead. I blinked as he released me. Barely visible even to my sharp animal eyes, a Metalhead crouched in a shadowy alcove near the ceiling. The only way Jak could've spotted it would be by that jewel embedded in its head. My vision is FAR superior to his, after all! And, geez- what are those Skull Gems of theirs good for, anyway? They're so shiny that you can see the stupid things coming from a mile away! Eh... on second thought, I suppose it's a bonus for us. That's nice, 'cause we need all the help we can get. Two guys against both the entirety of the Baron's forces _and_ an army of butt-ugly creatures willing to destroy anything in their path? Yeah. _Those_ are great odds. Have we got it good, or what?

In case it flew over your head, that was a little bit of SARCASM!!

Jak unholstered his Morph Gun with a smirk, jamming the blaster attachment onto it. Y'know, if that thing hadn't saved our butts too many times to count, I'd just toss it into whatever... uh, _liquid_ we just rode the hoverboard over. Jak isn't supposed to smirk like that, or shoot like that, or grin toothily as the bodies of Krimzon Guard start to pile up.

The Metalhead fell after taking two of Jak's well-aimed head shots, expelling both a Skull Gem and several blobs of Dark Eco. The Eco streaked towards Jak as if he were magnetic, permeating through his skin, crackling with energy as it did so.

Y'know, Dark Eco is another thing that makes no friggin' sense! Despite the senile loghead's inane blabberings about how corrupting, how undeniably and utterly _evil_ it is, all it did to me was change my body. The Eco didn't touch my mind at all, and I fell right into it! Then again, maybe it did... I sure don't remember what happened when I was submerged. Falling as a human one second, being tossed out an Ottsel the next...

Gol studied the junk his entire life, and sure as heck affected him! Body? Ugly as sin, sporting the voice of a hiphog with chronic bronchitis. Mind? Hoo boy, let's not even _go_ there.

Jak had it injected into 'im for two years. Body? Eh, no real difference - unless Jak's agonizing transformation into the pale, dangerously pointy Dark Jak counts. Mind? Gimme a break. Sweet, pure, heroic Jak's first words, spat out as if poisonous, were "I'm gonna kill Praxis". If any of the old Jak is still in there, he'll have to fight off the darkness threatening to consume him. Good ol' Dark Eco.

Eh... now that I look at it, I suppose it's a very good thing I didn't absorb none of that dark-power-mumbo-jumbo junk. The side effects just don't sell the package to me, y'know?

Besides. The way I see it, Jak and I are even now. I got the fuzz. He got the insanity. I'm suffering. He's suffering.

Not a bad deal, if I do say so myself.

"You think the guards would have taken care of the Metalheads on their way down," Jak mused, absentmindedly handing the Skull Gem to me. I shoved it in his backpack while he put that stupid gun away.

"Eh, I bet it was napping when they went by. It probably saw its reflection in the muck, realized what a hideous travesty against nature it is, and tried for a little beauty sleep!"

Jak barely heard me, scanning intently for any more Metal Heads. "We don't have far to go."

I shuddered. "Not far? Yeah, right! You said that twenty minutes ago!"

We started off again, but Jak's face didn't lose its wrinkled frown. "It's too quiet. We should be hearing something, anything by now- gunfire, the guards' comm units, explosions..."

Groaning loudly, I put a hand to my forehead. "Oh, great! Thanks a lot, Jak. You said _the words_! 'It's too quiet'! Now we're DEAD for sure and-"

"DAX! Shut up!" he hissed, grabbing my entire head as he hurriedly tried to cover my mouth. Geez, I might have been a LITTLE loud, but still! We stood there like that for almost a full minute- me, contemplating whether biting his hand would be worth the health risks, and Jak, darting his head around this way and that in a very unusual display of nerves.

"Mggph fffg," I said, breaking the silence with a glare leveled at my best friend. 

"Oh," Jak said, releasing me apologetically. "Sorry." He looked almost _sheepish_!

"Man! What is with you? If you're so jumpy about this mission, why'd you accept it in the first place?" I snapped. When Jak is creeped out about something, then you KNOW it's time for some major panicking.

I guess he concluded that no monsters were gonna pop out of the walls, 'cause he started walking again. "Torn offered us a new gun attachment for this job, and we _need_ it to take down those Metalheads at the Precursor ruins."

Logic. I hate logic, and I hate it even more when it puts us right in the middle o' DANGER! "It better be a pretty friggin' amazing piece of hardware," I grumbled, "for us to stick out our necks like this."

We turned the corner to find a heap of dead guards.

"Well, that's a good sign," Jak sighed in relief. "Those are gunshot wounds, not Metalhead claw or blast marks. The rebels must still be alive."

The old Jak would never call a pile of corpses a 'good sign'.

---

When we first landed in Haven City, completely surrounded by strangers and enemies, there was only one thought on my mind: save Jak. But, I mean, c'mon - me, the handsome fuzzy one, versus half a dozen Krimzon Guard? What was I supposed to do, pray they were all deathly allergic to Ottsel fur?! My flight was _strategic_, darnit! As they closed in on us I dashed between the legs of one startled soldier, and looked back in horror just as Erol raised the butt of his gun to Jak's head.

Whack.

Once they took Jak out of commission, I trailed 'em. Sometimes, being thought of as a stupid animal is a pain. Other times, it's a bonus. It was a 50/50 split in this particular case. I scampered after the entourage, playing the part of the 'loyal pet', and when the guards noticed poor pathetic me they attempted target practice. Couldn't shake me, though! Hah! Eventually they gave up on _that_, but they did gave me a swift kick in the ribs before they hauled Jak into his new home, locking the door behind them. As I lay there in the filthy street wondering how many of my ribs were broken, a switch flipped in my mind.

To hell with this! To hell with Jak! My entire life has revolved around making him happy, and where has THAT got me?!

My eyes flashed with rage as I stood up, gave the prison one last look, and ran off into the night.

Let's see _Jak_ suffer for once. 


	4. Darkness

_You know, I find it quite amusing how easily you all lose faith in the Dax. Tsk, tsk! Wait and see! Oh, and you'll notice that the rating has changed from PG to R. You can blame Dark Jak for that, he has certainly earned it._

---

It's funny, how easily love can turn into an all-consuming hate. Ever since my transformation it's been gnawing at my soul, making me doubt the one certainty in my life. The two emotions are so similar in their intensity that, once they make the switch, it's hardly noticeable.

Until you have to make a choice.

I abandoned Jak that day. I turned my tail and fled, completely controlled by the hatred I didn't realize was there, _should_ have realized was there. It took a week for the flames to die down, and that was when the hatred lost its grip on my mind. It was replaced by utter despair. The weight of what I had done, the inescapable guilt, crushed me utterly. I was alone. There was one person in the world that I had loved, and I left him to die. I was alone, and there was no one to blame but myself.

The darkness enveloped me.

When I woke from it a year later, there was one thought on my mind: save Jak.

---

Jak walked past the pile of Krimzon corpses without a second glance. "We need to get going."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Let's just get it _over_ with, already. I'm sure the tattooed wonder will be DISPLEASED if we slack off!" The hate was flaring up again, as always. This isn't Jak. I destroyed my Jak long ago, and he _deserved_ it.

I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't hear the snarls and weak screams, but Jak did. He abruptly tore the hoverboard from his back, nearly braining me in the process, and sped off on it down the pipe and around the corner.

The scene would play itself over, again and again and again, in my nightmares for many months to come. A group of Metalheads were tearing our rebels to pieces. The rebels, far too few in number to hold them off, were weakly struggling as the monstrosities ate them alive.

My mind froze in utter horror, and I found myself unable to look away or react until I felt a tremor underneath my paws. I slowly, stutteringly, looked to Jak, and what I saw did not ease my terror in the slightest. Jak was sobbing, or growling, or screaming, and the color began to drain from his skin. Horns exploded from his head with a sickening rip; his eyes never left the scene ahead of us as they dimmed and then flashed deepest black. My stupefied mind had just enough time to tell my hands to hold on as, crackling with energy, Dark Jak went to work.

Metalhead or rebel, Dark Jak did not care. They all bled the same, and the blood drove him into a killing frenzy. Dark Eco sprung from the quivering chunks that were once Metalheads, further fueling his rampage, and the man-made monster did not stop until the Eco quit flowing. Only when we were surrounded by unrecognizable heaps of flesh and bone, soaked in an unholy mixture of blood and bodily fluids, did the insanity fade from Dark Jak's eyes.

"Oh, God... Daxter..." As he slowly reverted back to himself Jak began to hyperventilate, sinking down to his knees. "Daxter! Oh _god_!"

I still don't know whether he was seeking comfort or thought he had killed me. In either case, I pried my stiff fingers from his shoulder plate and threw myself at his neck, which was the only part of his body I was physically able to envelop in an embrace.

The claws had retreated from his fingers, but those were still trembling wildly as Jak tentatively reached around me. He didn't seem to believe that I was real, at first. The hate, which was burning at my mind mere minutes ago, has been replaced by an overwhelming love and a terrible guilt. Again.

You know... Maybe Jak and I aren't so different. 


	5. Jak

I've never been alone.

My lengthy imprisonment, the Dark Eco torture sessions... It was all a test of my will and the faith I hold in my friends. They spoke to me during my hallucinations, comforting and familiar, urging me not to lose hope. Were it not for them, I would have surrendered to the darkness long ago.

I knew they would come for me. It was just a matter of when. My torturers found they could not break my spirit, because I never stopped trying to escape. How could I possibly sit still and do nothing when I knew my friends were risking their very lives to free me? My constant attempts at overtaking the guards kept them on their toes and heightened security to the maximum, but the injuries meant that at any given point there would certainly be a rookie on the team. A weak spot. An opportunity for my saviors. And even with my attacks, the guards never once changed their schedule or adjusted their training. They were utterly predictable. Another weakness.

The worst times of all were the injections. The excruciating pain screamed through my mind, drowning out the voices of my friends, sapping my strength and letting the darkness take root. I would pray for oblivion, an end to it all, straining to hear the whispers of my loved ones as my very being shrieked with agony.

And then it would be over. Once the injections stopped, the hallucinations would return tenfold and my friends seemed solid, real, close enough to touch. Most of all, him... Sometimes as an Ottsel, mostly as a human, Daxter would smile at me, worry and hope swirling in his eyes, offering his hand to pull me out of the darkness. My torturers never did understand why I smiled so earnestly through the tears once they were finished with me. I was not smiling because my pain had ceased. I was smiling because I was not alone.

---

The celebrations are over, now. The city is free, although the populace isn't finding that freedom easy to deal with. It's no wonder. Fear has been chiseled into the heart of every person in Haven City, and it will take a long time before they truly wake up from the nightmare that was once their reality. My own mind is beginning to clear. I can feel the changes that brilliant flash of Precursor light has made to my soul. I am in balance. Even though it is as painful as ever, my mind is no longer lost during my transformation into Dark Jak.

With both their Nest and leader lost, the Metalheads' numbers are dwindling. No longer freedom fighters, my friends and I are now exterminators. That's okay, though. The Krimzon Guard are horribly incompetent when it comes to Metalheads, and it has kept us busy.

Despite all this, I'm not yet satisfied. There is one thing that bothers me still.

"Well, what's up next, buddy?" Daxter jumps, shivering, onto my shoulder. The only thing threatening Haven City right now is Old Man Winter, and even Dax's Ottsel fur isn't doing much in the way of insulation. Apparently it's quite cold today- he hasn't even wasted enough energy for a single complaint.

Mindful not to knock him from his perch, I unwrap the scarf from around my neck and hand it to him. "Bundle up. It'll do us no good if your feet freeze to my shoulder guard."

Daxter throws me a sour look, and I laugh. It's so much easier to laugh these days, now that I'm in control of myself again.

"Well? What's next? Pleeeeease, let's got to the dig! The lava there is so WARM and I'm SURE the Metalheads will be thinking the same thing and-"

"Nope. We've got a different mission." I smile at him. He's covered himself in the scarf so completely that only his nose is poking out.

He sighs, and the air is so chilled that the sigh is visible. "Great. The sewers. Again."

"Nope."

"We've been EVERYWHERE!" Daxter snaps. He doesn't like the killing, even the extermination of the Metalheads, or the look of the gun in my hand. Truth be told, I don't like it much either. Not anymore.

"No more Metalheads, Dax. There are so few left that Sig alone can handle 'em. We've got to get out of this city. The Blue Eco supplies here are nearly drained, and I haven't seen any Green, Yellow or Red Eco since we left Sandover."

"Great. Another noble, heroic mission for a noble, heroic guy," he mutters sarcastically. Yup, he's warming up, both in body and in 'wit'.

"Well, without the other colors of Eco we can't possibly make White Eco, now can we?"

I keep looking forward as Dax's face snaps in surprise towards mine. "Huh? What'd we need White Eco for? I thought that tooth-fairy Precursor fruit said you were fine now!"

He always thinks about me first. I smile again, letting it spread slowly until it reaches my eyes, and when it does I look directly into his. I can see the pain, the suffering, the _darkness_ lurking behind his confused expression. I know why it is there. I know what I must do.

I am going to fix it.

---

_Fin_


End file.
